A World Forgotten

It feels foreign...to return to this space...to seek solace in writing words on this page but here I am. Wondering if this work will ever be seen, will ever be completed. Making in the season of mothering has proven hard. And yet, people do it every day. I find myself making excuses for the work not getting done. First it was the other jobs, then it was the developmental stage, sometimes depression, sometimes anxiety, sometimes illness, sometimes fear...Always fear. It is always fear holding us back from creating what we were made to create. The world I started is not forgotten. But it does seem to be buried. Somewhere deep deep down. I lost the confidence, the passion I once had towards this project, towards the work. In each transition, I am further from where I began. It has been two years since this baby was born, and this idea along with her. She is no longer an infant but a toddler, running wild and free, with the funniest laugh, and the cutest smile, and the craziest bright blond hair. I am proud to be her mother every day of my life. And yet, a part of me is still asleep under the pressure of this new name, mama. My life is entangled with hers as we play, and laugh, and read, and try to use the potty every thirty minutes. My hands weave together pieces of clothing as we watch toddler tv and I fight the migraine that invades my thoughts. Slowly, I have reshaped my work so that it surrounds her. I have whittled my responsibilities down with the hopes of creating space to create again, and even still, I find myself without clarity, without compassion, and no where closer to the completion of this dream. A world not forgotten, after all.